


Waking Up In Stranger Places

by wonderlandiscrumbling



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Illness, Suicide mention, Trans Male Character, Working things out, abuse mention, did, season four, vomit warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 08:44:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14016540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderlandiscrumbling/pseuds/wonderlandiscrumbling
Summary: Ed's biggest fear when coming to is wondering the people that were hurt by his other self.





	Waking Up In Stranger Places

Ed knelt before the toilet bowl retching into it. His body shook violently, his trembling hands clutched the cool porcelain of the toilet and tears streamed down his cheeks. There was a pain in his head and behind his eyes that felt akin to somebody driving knifes into his skull. A choke sob escaped him, he gasped and coughed, nothing came up now, barely anything had come up before. He moved from the toilet sitting with his back against the wall, he wrapped his arms around himself and began rocking. He continued trembling, soft cries escaping him. He didn’t know how long he’d been out for. He didn’t know what things he’d done. He just knew his clothes were drenched with blood, blood staining his fingers, and a nasty bruise on his right cheek. He’d come to in Oswald’s mansion, laying in what he remembered to be the master bedroom. He curled his fingers in his hair tugging hard, he let out a frustrated scream as he thought over the things that could have happened while he was gone.

Did Riddler kill Lee, god what if he’d killed Oswald?

The silence of the room outside of his own heavy breathing scared him. He attempted to listen past the sounds in his own brain to see if he could hear any other sign of life in the mansion, he needed to know nothing had happened. He needed a false sense of comfort. 

Knocking on the door startled him, he scrambled to his feet keeping himself pressed back against the wall hiding by the bath tub. 

“Ed?” 

The tension eased out of him at the sound of Oswald’s voice. He was alive, he was alive, and he was okay. If he was okay, then maybe Lee was okay as well.

Despite the lack of a response Oswald opened the door, he cautiously entered the room leaving the door open. He spotted Ed standing pressed back against the wall, hair hanging over his face and brown eyes wide, the look of fear reminded him of an injured deer. He held his hands up in front of himself as he slowly approached his friend.

“Ed, it’s okay, you’re safe.”

“Blood, why, why is there blood?” Ed managed out, voice cracking as he tugged at his own shirt looking down at the dried blood staining it.

Oswald carefully took hold of his wrists, fingers brushing against his skin touching over the cuts and bruises from where rope had dug into his skin. 

“A lot of it is your blood, you’re okay now. I’m sorry I didn’t get you cleaned up. You got attacked by Falcone’s men, they were torturing you wanting information on me. I found you and I brought you back here.”

Ed nodded, he stared down at Oswald’s hands noticing his bruised and bloodied knuckles. He looked back up to his face realizing for once just how distressed and broken he looked as if he were constantly on the verge of crying. He laughed realizing he looked how he felt. He averted his eyes blushing as he realized how inappropriate his laughter was. 

“Sorry.” He muttered.

Oswald let go of his wrists, he began nervously tugging at the sleeves of his own shirt. Ed noticed he was still wearing his Arkham uniform, he wondered why he hadn’t taken the time to change out of it, it seemed very unlike him.

“I should, I should let you get cleaned up. There’s, there’s still some of your old clothes here, I kept them just in case.” 

Ed took hold of his wrist preventing him from leaving. Oswald looked down at his hand then back up at his face. 

“He didn’t hurt you?”

The other man shook his head looking away. “No, he told me about you, what you tried to do though.” 

Ed let go of him, he swallowed hard closing his eyes as he remembered his suicide attempt. 

“How long was I gone for?” He asked, he didn’t want to talk about what happened. He already knew how little Oswald thought of him, but he at least seemed to think enough to rescue him from Falcone and take him some place safe. He wasn’t sure why.

“Close to a week. After you get cleaned up we can talk more, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know and maybe you can tell me some things.” 

Ed nodded. 

There was an extended awkward moment of silence between them. Oswald continued to look at him, noticing the major differences between Ed and the Riddler, even the way they spoke was vastly different. There was a loving softness to Ed’s voice, a sound he missed. He forced a smile before turning and leaving the room giving the other man the privacy he needed. 

Suddenly being alone again made him feel anxious, he pushed the feeling down just focusing on the objective of getting himself clean. He stripped out of his clothes tossing them towards the laundry basket, he wasn’t sure if they could be cleaned or if he should just give up and get himself something new. He thought about the sequin coated suit at Cherry’s place, he was fond of it, maybe he’d switch to that one of these days. His movements as he filled up the tub were mechanical, he felt detached from himself, his mind mostly blank. The most out of the way thing he did was throw a towel over the mirror that hung above the sink before getting into the tub. He closed his eyes sighing as he sunk into the water, he could feel the heat of it, almost too hot, but exactly what he was needing. It took him awhile to get his long legs adjusted in a way where he’d be somewhat comfortable in the tub. A feeling of exhaustion weighed him down as he scrubbed at his skin, watching the blood discolor the water turning it a faded shade of pink. He brought the cloth to his face gently wiping the blood from his lips and chin, careful to mind the bruises. 

The blank spots in his memory scared him, reminding him of the morning after he’d killed Kristen. He’d close his eyes wishing he’d just turned himself into the police that day. He should have gone along with the Riddler’s game, found her body then turned himself in, he could have gotten help. Even if they couldn’t have helped him, he wouldn’t have been able to hurt anybody else. He was more than willing to admit to his own morbid nature, his own will to torture and kill with glee, but there was something about the Riddler that scared him.

He pulled his legs up against himself wrapping his arms around them. He thought about the things he used to say to him, the hatred he seemed to hold towards people who got too close. He remembered the taunting when he’d realized that Ed was starting to fall for Oswald, the warnings that it wouldn’t work, that Oswald only saw him as a pawn, not as a potential lover. He shook the thoughts from his head, memories he didn’t want to dwell on any longer.

He finished cleaning himself, he got out of the tub. He grabbed a towel from the rack and dried himself, he wrapped it around his waist before going back into the bedroom. He smiled to himself seeing the t-shirt and flannel pajama pants laid out on the bed. Clothes he used to wear long before he’d met Oswald. He removed the towel tossing it to the side, he slipped on the pants then pulled the shirt on. He laughed as he tugged at the ridiculously loose fitting top, one he’d often slept in during the days before his top surgery. He felt amazed that Oswald had kept the clothes, that he’d kept any of his belongings. He’d figured that his first order of business would have been throwing all his belongings into the fireplace, casting some curse on him for being such a bastard.

He pushed his fingers back through his hair attempting to keep it out of his face. He glanced towards the full length mirror for just a moment, he looked worn and exhausted, the bruise shining brightly. He closed his eyes feeling a sharp pain in his head, he pressed his fingers against his eyelids groaning. A flash of a memory entered his mind, a man’s voice yelling, a fist connecting with his face. The impact of the hit hard enough to throw him to the ground. As soon as the memory came it was gone. Ed quickly picked up the towel, he moved to the mirror tossing the mirror over it covering the reflective surface.

He felt anxious as he exited the bedroom making his way through familiar halls of a home he hadn’t felt comfortable in for so long. Even the days after shooting Oswald he hadn’t felt right being in his home, he’d felt as if he had been trespassing. He knew now he was welcome at least for the moment, still he was confused as to why he was there. The last he really remembered was begging him not to say that name, not to trigger him to come out. He felt an anger towards him about that, a rising sickness in his gut as he remembered the pure fear he’d felt grabbing him and begging him not to do that to him. He noted it to be something to talk to him about.

He found Oswald in the sitting room, he sat on the sofa by the fireplace holding a glass of whiskey in hand. Ed noted he’d changed into a suit, still he somehow looked disheveled, a far off look in his glassy eyes that left Ed feeling a bit rattled.

Oswald took another pull from his drink emptying the glass, he set it on the table before turning to look up at Ed. He forced a smile as he looked at his former friend, memories of when they shared an apartment together filling his mind. He remembered how much he had loathed having to share a bed with him, constantly kicking at Ed until he’d fall out of bed just so he could have the space to himself. 

“You look much better, please sit down.” He said patting the space next to him.

Ed approached the couch, he seated himself next to him keeping a good few inches of space between them. The two avoided looking at each other, a feeling of awkwardness filling the silence between them.

“Why did you say his name?” Ed eventually asked, the question forced. He feared what the answer could be, afraid to hear that the man he cared for thought nothing of him.

Oswald remained silent, nervously fidgeting with his fingers. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought, I thought I was helping. The note he’d left for me that day that you visited, it sounded like he needed help, like he was in pain. I thought, I thought if I freed him then it could be like before.” He paused letting out a shaky breath, he rubbed his hands over his face groaning in frustration. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know until he started telling me about what you did, about the stairwell. I just, I thought it was you, I thought I’d had the old you back. The one I had before I screwed up. Ed, I am so sorry.” 

Ed looked at him, he could see the pain and desperation in his eyes. He knew it might be idiotic, but he believed him, believed that he truly had no understanding of what he’d done, of what was going on. He wanted to deny him forgiveness just out of spite, but he knew it wouldn’t do either of them any good.

“I forgive you, Oswald. He isn’t me, that’s not….The way things were before I had met Isabella, the way that we were. That was always me, I worked so hard to be the type of man that you might want to have by your side. I wanted to impress you so badly, I just threw myself into work and changing myself. I think knowing how well you know me always scared me and now it’s more terrifying knowing that you know him. You know more about me than even I know half the time and that scares the hell out of me.”

He tensed when Oswald placed a hand on his knee. He looked down at his hand then up at him, relaxing as he felt his fingers brush against him. 

“I promise I won’t do anything to use you again. I’m sorry, I mean that. I missed you, the real you, the you who spent nights just listening to me talk about my mom and dealt with me drunk and crying after my dad died. He isn’t you, I’m sorry I didn’t realize before. I really would like to try better this time, as friends of course. I wouldn’t dream of asking more of you after everything I’ve put you through.” 

Ed placed a hand over his, he lightly stroked his fingers against the bruises on his knuckles. “We can work on it, I can even move back in here with you if that’s okay….Can you tell me more about what happened?”

Oswald nodded biting and chewing his bottom lip. “Falcone’s men took you to her home, I found you there tied to a chair and bloodied. I killed two of her men and kept one alive hoping he might be willing to tell me where she was keeping Martin, but he hadn’t exactly been willing to talk. You, he had killed the guy, and we left.” He paused for staring off towards the fireplace. “Things had been fine for a while, but then he’d started talking about finding Lee and wanting to kill her. Things he was saying in general were just….it reminded me of how unhinged things had been before I had Victor freeze you. I might have ended up knocking you out.” 

“It’s weird to say, but I’m glad that you did that. I’m sorry that you didn’t find out anything about where Martin is, are you sure he’s even still in the city?”

“I think so.” Oswald turned to look at him again. “I feel like he’s still in the city, I just want him to be safe. Ideally I’d love to bring him here, set up a room for him, and adopt him. I know that’s insane, I’d be a terrible father, but I just want him safe. I want him to know that I love him and that I’d just been trying to do what was best for him.” His voice started to crack as he stopped talking. 

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he closed his eyes tightly. Against all better judgement Ed wrapped his arm around his shoulders pulling him in against his side, he pressed a kiss against the top of his head. “It’s okay, I’m sure that he’s safe. I’ll do whatever I can to help you find him, I’m sure we can get Lee to help us find him for you. It’ll be okay.”

Oswald buried his face against his chest, he wrapped his arms around his waist holding onto him as he sobbed. Ed knew he shouldn’t be consoling him or comforting him, but he hurt for him. This wasn’t the same man who had hurt him over a year ago, this was somebody different. He didn’t entirely know what he wanted from him or with him, but he knew he didn’t want him to suffer another family loss. He just held him gently assuring him things would get better, a lie he often told himself, a lie he liked to think could become a truth.


End file.
